


25 days of Christmas

by Multiversal_Misfit



Category: Gravity Falls, Hetalia: Axis Powers, Phineas and Ferb, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Spirou et Fantasio, Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon Era, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Multi, Multiple Pairings, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, undetermined canon time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-02-09 11:46:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12887184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiversal_Misfit/pseuds/Multiversal_Misfit
Summary: 25 day shipping challenge by camp-camp-at-band-camp





	1. Doing it the Normal Way

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt list  
> [http://camp-camp-at-band-camp.tumblr.com/post/168086419722/25-days-of-christmas-otp-thingy-1your-otp]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Flynn-Fletchers didn't do normal.  
> Most of the time.

_**Day 1- your OTP decorating  
[Phineas and Isabella-Phineas and Ferb]** _

* * *

****

"Whatcha doin?'

It’s the type of phrase that always comes right on time, even if it’s not supposed to be at any given time. None of Phineas’s adventures ever seemed to be. But Isabella would be there, asking the same question with the same smile.

“Isabella! Come on in, we’re just about to decorate the Christmas tree!”

We was a relative term. Truth be told Phineas was the only member of the house hold on tree duty this time around. Ferb wouldn’t be home from college until later in the month, and Candace was out with their parents gift hunting. Phineas had always been a delivery sort of guy anyway.

“Sounds fun. Do you have anything special in mind?” When it came to the Flynn-Fletcher household, the unexpected was always expected. The mundane never the way to do a thing, but always flair and pizzazz.

But not this time around. No Phineas stands knee deep in boxes, fingers twirling the glass ornaments before rolling them down his arms and tossing it into the air, a perfect perch on his nose before it drops back into his hand. No contraptions, no gadgets. Just him, the decorations, and a lone tree.

“I thought this year, we could it by hand.” There’s implication there. It’s not just any other year, not just some Christmas. It’s their Christmas, the first time he and Isabella can celebrate the season together in their relationship. It has to be special, from beginning to end. Decorating together was just the first step on his list.

Perry continues to nap as the get to work. Boxes are thrown open, ornaments and bows pass hands as the teens tackle the task. Isabella has always been handy with coordinating, somehow managing to deck out the entire tree with bows with little overpowerment. Somewhere in between the silver and white bows end up tied around Phineas’s hair.

“Oh! How cute.” Phineas turns as Isabella pulls out the paper boxes on strings, photos of the family much younger on ever side. “Look how little you were.”

“How little _we_ were,” Phineas is chuckling, another box made up of friends. Memories weren’t easily discarded, even as the paper faded and the glue peeled. “All these Christmas’s my mom made sure to keep them, makes the holiday feel merrier for everyone.” Right in front, not to high but just right for everyone to see them.

Isabella’s laughter is soft as she makes sure to angle the photos to be seen easily. Even if her family wasn’t one to celebrate Christmas, the holidays always drew everyone together. The garlands are in her hands and wrapping around Phineas’s neck like an itchy and prickly scarf, breaking their thoughts and pulling another grin from Phineas.

“I don’t remember being a tree!”

“You are now!”

Suddenly it’s not about the tree. It’s each other, the garlands and popcorn strings are tossed about, draping over shoulders and tangling in hair.  

Even covered in tinsel and fake tree needles the laughter doesn’t stop. They miss the shutter of Linda’s camera.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish it wasn't late and this didn't suck.


	2. Winter Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a reporter doesn't allow too many vacations. Spirou finds ways to make due.

_**Day 2. Your OTP playing in the snow.** _

_**[Spirou/Fantasio-Spirou et Fantasio]** _

* * *

 

"Unbelievable! They rejected my story _again_! And now they're sending us after some other... Goose chase?! If we didn't need the money I would tell those reporters where they could shove their--"

"Fantasio..."

The simple call of his name is enough to have Fantasio drop the statement, instead melting into his jacket and grumbling into the scarf.

"Pictures. Who has time to take pictures in a situation like _that_? They don't appreciate us Spirou. Never have."

"Nonsense old friend. The newspaper has always valued whatever we bring back to them." Spirou knows the statement wasn't entirely true. But it wasn't the news Fanta needed right now. "Come on. We have our leads. Let's fire up the turbo traction and find a new story. With plenty of pictures."

Truth be told, Spirou would have preferred a break. There's still again in his back, and Fantasio hadn't stopped limping since the plane landed. It was a tough job, the kind that didn't reward the body. It was their life.

Out in the open leaves their vehicle to the mercy of the weather, another reason for Fantasio to curse as the snow sags the rooftop and ices the Windows. It really is too much for the older male to handle.

"I've had it. I've had just about enough of all of this!" There's no mercy for his hands, uncovered and freezing nearly on contact with the slush.

"Fantasio, calm down. You'll never get things done that way--"

Whump

The clump hits Spirou right on the nose, forcing his eyes closed and dripping down his chin into the cracks of his sweater.

"Fantasio!"

There's no deny the laughter from the blonde, nor the squirrel who has appeared from the depths of pockets. Purposely. At Spirou's own expense , Fantasio has found an outlet for his anger.

"You've asked for it."

Fanta gets now warning. Spirou's hand has already swiped across the hood, clumping snow together before launching it directly at his companion's chest. The neatly tied and buttoned jacket soak all the way as Spip releases a Yelp. It's war now between the reporters, flinging tiny bits of snow across the hood, Spirou following suit.

"Spirou no!" Fantasio's arms throw themselves in front of him, but they do nothing to stop Spirou from taking them both down to the sidewalk, snow seeping everywhere. Spirou is not done however, instead one last handful of snow finds its way through Fantasio's hair, led by the redhead's fingers.

"Spirouuuuu!"

They're wet, dirty and cold while Spip's chatter is directed at them both. Spirou doesn't care too much, sitting himself up on Fantasio's legs with a laugh. "You've lightened up." His finger draws in the disturbed snow around them, drawing shapes, one in particular containing their initials and warming Fanta's face.

"Let's try and get a real vacation after this story okay? For now, this will have to do."


	3. Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing ever stops Jean from taking a shot against Eren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was absolutely sick yesterday, so I had to fall behind a bit.  
> Ah well.

_**Day 3.your otp having a snow ball fight** _

* * *

 

 

Hey Shit face!"

Jean's voice has always been something Eren found hard to ignore, try as he might. It would have saved him the trouble most days if he could have just avoided the taunts, if he would just listen to Mikasa and keep walking. 

“What do you want J—“

_Whump_

If it had been plain snow, Eren might not have bothered so much. But Jean had no respect, and his mouth fills with the assortment of dead leaves and twig ends packed into the frozen projectile. Filth and junk poke at his cheeks and tap against his teeth.

This means war.

War has its casualties, especially when someone’s aim lacks the finesse to hit its target. Marco becomes the first, the price of standing too close to Jean, and finds himself staggering back into Bertholdt. A win in the domino effect, not what Eren wants.

“Sorry Marco.” It’s only a quick response, the brunette has already reached down to scoop another handful. It takes a lot to dodge Jean’s attacks, at least calming down into regular snowballs now. The damage is done however, the 104th impossible to resist the pull of the fight. They’ll all find punishment by Shadis later, but a break of any kind is exactly what they need.

“You’re aim is shit, you know that Jeager?” Jean taunts too much, snowball tossed into the air and caught again. It’s getting harder to avoid the stray throws of other cadets, he’s certain there’s going to be bruising on the back of his legs later. But none of that matters, Eren’s his goal.  
  
“Just like your face.”

The slush gathers in stray hands, the laughter doesn’t die down and neither does Eren’s persuit of Jean, weaving between his friends and companions. He misses the laughter that escapes him as he aims, and he nearly misses the laughs from Jean. Even as the other’s find their fill the pair continue onward.

They’re in for the worst of it once they’re caught. For once, what matters is they’ve found the time to be kids.


	4. lopapeysa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiku makes anything look good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally gotten the chance to write this pair.
> 
> For Neko, who has loved and groaned over these two with me.

**_Day 4. Your OTP wearing matching sweaters_ **

* * *

 

Iceland was never the type of nation that enjoyed the large estate that was his home. Like most things, it had been modeled after the ones found in Europe, and because of this was often far too large for the island nation. On the mainland, this type of design made sense. With it so easy to travel between each other, large estates to accommodate guests made sense. But Iceland had always been so far away, leading to little visitation at all. The halls remained quiet, the furniture new and untouched. He kept up the appearance, for the locations sake. Tidy, clean, and the faint smell of sweets in the air. It was as far as his home would ever get.

And yet suddenly it all changed, just by Japan walking through the door. There was no mess, but the furniture found usuage, the sweets baked occasionally a mouth to feed and the halls just a little less quiet. Iceland liked that about Japan, the respect for noise but how even the quiet voice could bring life to the halls.

It was hard to pinpoint exactly how it was their relationship began. Something that just made itself known one day to themselves and others. For Iceland's sake, and Japan's habits, their displays were never public. An occasional smile that lingered a second too long, the squeeze of a hand under the table. But in the privacy of home it became clearer. The space that usually hovered between them vanished, a peace that let them sit side by side while enjoying their snacks and tea.

It's no different now, tucked under the blanket on the couch. Iceland no longer trembles whenever Japan's arm presses against his. It feels weird when it's not.

"It's not too cold is it Kiku?" Another milestone. The name doesn't stick on his tongue anymore. He loves to say it, just as he does looking at the Japanese.

Kiku has returned a smile, the tilt of his head enough to fluster Iceland and make him return attention to the cookie in his hand. "Not anymore. Your sweater is more than enough to keep the cold at bay. Thank you, Emil."

"That's good.... You can, keep it." In reality, Emil made it for him. It wasn't typical, designing a lopapeysa in two colors as the read and white that adorned the other. But it was his flag, and enough for Emil. He never loved wearing the sweater as much as he did now.

He really was a teenager. That's what his brother would say, seeing him in matching sweaters with Japan.

"I will treasure it."

It meant nothing to Emil now.


	5. Just Desserts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone knows better than to let England near the kitchen. Japan compromises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late again, but there was no way I wasn't going to publish something I wasn't proud about when it came to these two.

 

_**Day 5. Your OTP baking Christmas Cookies** _

_**England/Japan-Hetalia** _

* * *

 

“Everyone knows better than to let me in the kitchen.”

It’s a soft mutter, more like a statement that isn’t meant to be heard by anyone but himself. But Japan always had a way of catching those sorts of things, even among the noise of the household and laughter of his friends.

He didn’t want to host this party, but America somehow always found ways to get Japan to give in to his wishes and desires. He had the room, he actually enjoyed company (Russia never accepted America’s invitations); it gave him the chance to be with others.

“I needed the help.” His fingers continue their work as his eyes close, avoiding the surprise sweeping across the blonde’s face. He respects the privacy, but never when it’s for England’s degrading. “Everyone else seemed busy with their conversations.”

“You know what they say about my cooking. You’ve admitted it yourself.”

Japan can’t stop the stiffening of his back or the way his fingers freeze against the dough. Once yes. Between the inability to stop his words and his stomach attempting to purge itself. Regret he tends to avoid. “That—was so long ago, how do you remember such things?”

“It’s all anyone says about me.”

The guilt is back, rising like the lump that catches in Japan’s throat. He can’t help but steal a glance now, noting the crease of England’s brows, the distance in emerald eyes grow farther. It’s a cruel running joke, and like so many the solitary island found himself at the center.

It’s against all of Japan’s comfort, but he doesn’t think too much of it as he abandons his corner of the countertop. He can force down the embarrassment, tilt his head downward in vain attempts to avoid the blush on his face from being detected. England had always ended up as someone Japan blurred lines for, and it found itself true again as the Asian nation pressed himself against the other’s back, fingers intertwining and catching the dough that is starting to fall through.

“Japan?”

“Follow my lead.”

It’s nothing complicated anymore. Roll the dough together, separate the pieces, shape the pieces, but Japan finds himself learning more through the touch. A nation much younger than he wears his work on his hands, from the roughness of years of labor to the gentle movements of a master needlework.  It’s changed from the last time he’s felt them, a lifetime ago before wars and sides and much younger and free.

“I think we’re done,” England whispers. Neither of them move, only the slow swipe of England’s thumb on Japan’s. It’s the only touch they find themselves allowing before they finally separate.   
  
“Easy…” It’s Japan’s turn to mutter, busied with passing trays around and removing cookies from the cooling trays.  There’s little conversation between them as they continue, if only a little closer again.

It pleases Japan to hear America’s excited mumbles by the time the baked goods arrive to everyone, even more so when the question is asked.

“Yo! Who made these?”

“Arthur did.” He’s never more proud to say it, or to see the smile on the other’s face.


	6. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connie stopped believing, Steven never did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't convince me otherwise that Steven doesn't believe in Santa

_**Day 6. Your OTP making santa cards** _

_**Steven/Connie- Steven Universe** _

* * *

 

“Come on Connie!”

Steven’s excitement has gotten the best of him again. They’re barely touching the steps up to the beach house, if they touch them at all. Connie is used to it, the random floatation in their runs. The holidays do it the most to Steven, in the time they’ve known each other. And sometimes it’s the holidays that Connie enjoys the most.

She had always considered her life boring. But with Steven that was never the case. And even here in the lull, with not a threat to worry them, the Christmas season found its own excitement and adventures for them to enjoy.

“Do you know what you’re going to ask Santa for?”

The question catches her off guard for a moment, but the smile across Steven’s face was all she needed to know.   
  
“I haven’t… written to Santa for a few years,” Connie admits sheepishly. She had stopped believing in the figure years ago. There were more important matters, and a man flying around the world?

“Whaaaaaaaaaat?! But how does he know what to get you if he doesn’t have ideas!

If Gem being from another planet existed, why couldn’t Santa?

“I… guess I could write one this year.”

That’s all Steven needs to hear. The paper and envelopes have scattered across the table, a new grin on his face as he spreads the crayons and pens.

“I always find putting that special touch on it, makes it all the better.”

Connie can believe for one more year.


	7. Meep Moprs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill Cipher doesn't get human traditions.  
> Lapis does her best to make things work while she's stuck on this planet.
> 
> [AU crossover where Bill isn't entirely an asshole, but enough of one to still want to destroy a universe or two.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is over and my keeping up with it totally broken but I have all of them lying around and I might as well post them.

_**Day 7- Your OTP doing the Christmas Tree  
[Bill Cipher/Lapis Lazuli]** _

* * *

 

Humans, had the funniest ways of creating entertainment for themselves, especially when it involved the ridiculous amounts of “holidays” they needed to celebrate and gorge themselves drunk on the “spirit” of it all.    
  
But apparently, it wasn’t restricted simply to humans, at least not in this universe. The complications of how he had arrived in this copy of Earth similar to his wasn’t of any interest to him, what mattered to him was his ability to manifest himself. All thanks to some ridiculous species made of gems, capable of generating physical forms of light and energy. Exactly what he was.    
  
If they could do it, why couldn’t he?

It opened up so many possibilities for him, a perfect chance to create all sorts of chaos. At least, until said chaos garnered the attention of a specific group of gems called the Crystal Gems. What a stupid name. None of them were even Crystals!   
  
So many complications that didn’t matter, except that he was stuck here now, somehow living under their roof and unable to fully enact his destruction. It didn’t bother him  _ too _ much. All he had to do was bide his time, wait for the perfect opportunity--   
  
“Bill.” 

A single eye opens to be greeted with the straight laced face of the blue gem, a Lapis Lazuli who showed zero excitement for anything. The only one it seemed, eager to let him get away with his more questionable tricks. Her concern for the Earth didn’t extend far enough to keep him in place. It was why he was even here in the barn.    
  
“I thought you were going to help me with my newest meep morp.”    
  
_ Art. _

****It’s always a dramatic groan from the demon, stretching out his arms and legs in a mock display of resting interrupted before he’s straightening upwards, barely letting legs graze across the floor as he follows the teardrop gem. Things, in a physical dimension, were easier when a physical form was humanoid.  “I _AM_ helping! I’m letting you take all the creative liberties with this fancy twig!”   
  
Lapis never seems amused. A small glance at the blonde demon, a toss of glass orbs for him to catch and blink at in confusion. “What the hell am I supposed to do with these?”  
  
“You put them on a branch, any branch. With that little hook. Just don’t break them.”  
  
Why does he let himself be pushed around like this? He’s an ancient being! Fearless and Powerful! He doesn’t do Christmas trees! And he certainly doesn’t let himself be pushed around by some sea stone!  
  
“You’re missing something important you know.” A small scoff, the last of blue flames disappearing from placed ornaments and stupidly complicated tinsel. “Don’t humans put some sort of silly plastic star of top of these things?”  
  
A smile from Lapis is rare, an event that confuses Bill every time it happens. How could she smile through her misery?! How could he feel so awkward through it all.  
  
“I said I needed help didn’t I?”  
  
BIll is rarely caught off guard, but here is another exception, the ground even further away from his feet and the swish of Lapis’s wings in his ear as she’s hooking her arms under his his, depositing the floating demon atop the tree like some sort of floating topper.   
  
“There. Isn’t it perfect Bill?”


End file.
